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Dream A Little Dream

As I stare at tropical islands, lush landscapes and endless mountain tops, I’m left in a daze and look down at my watch. The black and white pin-striped hand ticks. And ticks. And ticks. My lower back aches from the poorly supported chair I sit on and my wrist stings from typing.

Both pains are manegible, Monday through Friday 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The pain that lingers, past the 50 hour week, is the burning sensation to move, to keep moving, feeling, seeing, tasting and hearing. The need to experience culture and travel vast lands, both known and unknown is a need deep inside me that fights to breathe each day.

Time holds it breathe, while responsibility suffocates it. I never desired a real life, a 9-5, bills, mortgage, insurance, etc. I wanted to break barriers and create my own path, a path designated by fate and faith. The hardest part is realizing I have lived that, with exceptions. The easy part is knowing I am the only one keeping me from still living that life. I know how to live it better than most, but to separate myself from life’s responsibilities and grasp a hold of the life I want to create is not 1-2-3.